I’ve been going through the motions. I wake up, go to work, come home, and try to recreate any semblance of the creative life I once had back in Iowa. It’s odd. Different. I’m adjusting. And that’s the thing about adjusting, I find myself compromising the life I had dreamed about for something else. I want to say that there’s not enough time in the day to do what I want but I also don’t use my time wisely. I hoard time. I get greedy and sometimes overdo what I want. I fill my time with multiple creative outlets that suck the life out of me. I feel lost in my head but feel grounded in my heart. The creative life is odd. It has its challenges but it rewards you in ways you never could’ve imagined. You feel closer to humanity. You feel connected to every fiber of your being but that connection is short lived. You come back to it wanting to recreate that feeling over and over again but it feels not as close as you want it to be. You develop taste. This creative life is dangerous. Like a drug. You become addicted to it. Sometimes it hurts you and sometimes it relieves you. This creative life is what I’ve been living for so long and it’s all I know. Always curious and always seeking answers to life’s unanswerable questions.